My Legal Problems

Unemployed Cow!


Dear Mr. Richard S. Porter:

We have received copyright complaint(s) regarding material
you posted, as follows: from FOX about carvideofinal -
richardporter201 Video ID: 4aWwbLjBsnM

This is the second copyright strike against your account. A
single additional claim against your account will result in the
termination of your account. To avoid this, delete any videos
to which you do not own the rights, and refrain from uploading
additional videos that infringe on the copyrights of others.

Rupert Murdoch

c/o YouTube.com StagePlays.com PornIsUs.com


Dear Mr.Murdoch,

I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but guess what,
I do know some boys who are. Are you familiar with the
team of Edgar, Allen, and Moe? Sharper than tacks these
three are. Let me remind you too of the last case wherein
they defended my dear ass: Richard Porter vs. Soy Bean
Milk Producers of NE Wisconsin. But when I proved that
cows were being put out of work due to, quote, "make
americans healthier" and see with mine own eyes their
turning to alcohol and gang violence I just had to do
something. I'm determined to have the same outcome with
my videos.

To close, does this mean I'm not invited to the annual share-
holder meeting to be held in Las Vegas? You know how I
like to gamble! Roll the dice as they say!

Richard Porter

c/o Peta.com CowMilkProducersOfAmerica.com
HindisWorshipCowsToo.com

Editor's Comments

This is why I may drink even more in the future:

The controversy over the airing on SuperBowl Sunday of
a pro-life commercial sponsored by some right wing
christian organization and featuring QB Tim Tebow and
his Mother has me riled. Tim Tebow is famous for
appearing in public sporting biblical quotes meshed in
with his eye makeup. I wonder if Mr. Tebow and his
Mother are familiar with this biblical quote from Matthew:

“When you pray, you are not to be like the hypocrites;
for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and
on the street corners so that they may be seen by men.
Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full. 6 “But
you, when you pray, go into your inner room, close your
door and pray to your Father who is in secret, and your
Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you."

This Mother Son relationship reminds me of something
Norman Bates and his Mother might cook up. These
people are the same people who encourage others to walk
into abortion clinics and shoot anyone in site. God I miss
the days when the Romans fed these folks to the lions.
Now, there's a sporting event I would attend. "Can I get
some popcorn over here? Is Pat Robertson on the bill too!"

J.D. Salinger was a great american writer who eschewed
the public for which I personally admire him greatly for doing
so. I hate it when rich authors go on television to spout their
sanctimonious views on the rest of us. For example, I
recently watched a documentary on the singer Patti Smith.
When I was stationed in Ansbach Germany I frequented
this cool underground bar that played her music incessantly
and I liked her music. But in this documentary she
continually complains about what a terrible life she's had as
she gets into and out of limousines and obsesses over buying
very expensive Prada clothing in Italy. Yea, my heart really
goes out to you and that's why I'm asking all of you to in lieu
of Donations to Haiti instead let's all pitch in together and
help Patti Smith double the millions she already has.


Joyce Maynard

Two days have passed and already this worm of a woman is
resurrecting her brief affair with Mr. Salinger. I'm now talking
about Joyce Maynard. She originally wrote a book on their
brief affair about 10 years ago and I can still remember the gist
of the story. Her goal being to embarrass the author for the sake
of promoting her freakish self and now that he's dead she's back
again for round two. My advice to Joyce Maynard, leave Mr.
Salinger alone and write something original yourself honey!

And one last thing:



"Culpeper County Virginia public school officials have decided to
stop assigning a version of Anne Frank's diary, one of the most
enduring symbols of the atrocities of the Nazi regime, after a
parent complained that the book includes sexually explicit
material and homosexual themes."

The Editor

In Memory Of

Chapter Seven

Propaganda or Channeling Orson Welles

The reason Jim stayed with her and tolerated her was
because when he was around her all he ever thought
about was sex. He'd spend inordinate amounts of time
thinking of things and situations which would lead to
their having sex.

She wasn't very bright but was a fairly good passer at
appearing some what educated, a good student. After
they'd dated a few months, she'd begun the practice of
aping back to Jim the ideas and words she had picked
up from their conversations. This both pleased and
aggravated Jim. With her strange ways she seemed
to him as if she were from another planet.

She was of either German or Polish descent and very
much looked the part of either race. Thick blond
hair halfway down her back but often worn pulled up
into an unusally tight bun atop her head causing a vein
to bulge at her temple; blue eyes, but just a little too
close together; healthy, but pale complexion, small
breasts, good teeth, a swimmers build, and petite but
with a fierce combativeness about her personality
coupled with a very alluring seductiveness. Sometimes
Jim felt as if he was dating a facimilie of his own Mother,
or perhaps worse still, a Vampire.

And as their relationship did progress another side of
her had begun to appear to Jim. It was the small things
that gave her away, the white lies, the suspicious
behavior, the constant ringing of her cellphone, her name
and telephone number on a bathroom wall. And these
ominous signs had the cumulative effect of making Jim
nervous and uneasy and so he bought a pistol. 'Just in
case' he told himself. "You can't be too careful."

One night while Jim slept she did lift off his star of david
from around his neck and re-fashioned it into a crucifix
using a ball peen hammer and a bic lighter. And then
Jim knew: 'she was a welder'. But Jim didn't care because
this only made him want her more.

On some nights Jim waited for the inevitable sound of
jack boots on the stairs and the hard rapping at the door.
By now he had begun his custom of sleeping with one eye
open with his revolver nearby, especially when he slept
over at her apartment. Something out of an Edgar Allen
Poe novel.

On Jim's birthday she did prepare for him his favorite
dish: Chicken Himmler. And afterwards, a cake followed,
with something written in German upon it: Arbeit Macht
Frei. She presented him with a wallet, which to Jim,
appeared to be made of some strange material he
wasn't familiar with. Everything about her was strange.

They drank a bottle of champange and Jim told her how
beautiful her legs looked in her short shorts. He reached
over and touched one and she batted his hand away laughing.
Jim secretly began plotting on how he was going to get her
to remove the short shorts. They drank another bottle of
champagne. And when she went to the restroom Jim
did eventually mossy over to the couch and relax and
reminded himself what a lucky man was he. Fer sure.

A switch by now had sounded off signaling to Jim that a
certain portion of his brain had shut down. A state of tupor
set in, bordering on rigor mortis. A birthday party to remember
he muttered to no one in particular and thought to himself
some more about any and everything and then just stared at
the picture of Hitler hanging on the wall.

[note to author: could the above paragraph been any more con-
voluted?]


And when there did come the sound of jack boots in the
hallway and a hard rapping at the door, and to no one's
surprize, Jim did pass out upon the living room floor.

Fast Cars Movie Montage

FAST CARS MOVIE MONTAGE RICHARD PORTER RICHARDPORTER201
Uploaded by richardporter201. - Check out other Film & TV videos.

Chapter Six

THE COMPANY MAN

By now the rain had ceased, the clouds had parted, and

the big hot yellow molten ball in the sky had begun again

to turn the soot and dirt in the streets to dust.

Jim envied the generations that came before him. Life

seemed simpler then. Have a problem? No problem!

Consult with your Bible and that was the end of it. Case

closed. Any questions so far?

Each man believed and therefore understood everything

related to how one should conduct themselves in a

christian oriented society. The parameters were narrow

but reassuring. Sure, there were a few apostates, the

nonobservants, but they were small in number, and

usually run out of town, tar and feathered, their tails

tucked between their legs. These aberrant types usually

sang a different tune in the trenches, but nevertheless

their overall effect was negligible, and therefore the

system worked, and everyone was happy, especially

the people living in the South. And Jim counted himself

a fellow Southerner, whether he liked that dubious

distinction or not.

But somewhere something went terribly wrong with this

2000 year old experiment. And now everyone must

reorient themselves to the new order but really no one

knows how and this is where we now find our protagonist:

alone, grappling in the dark, but treading lightly, afraid to

waken the barbarians loitering outside the palace gate;

laid out in their lairs; drunk on power and deception; in a

deep slumber. Jim didn't stand a chance and neither did

America.

{note to author: can you pare down on the use of adjectives already?}

The first customer of the day was a frumpish appearing

woman typical of the kind of customer the store attracted.

Bargain hunters. Women with too much money, too

much make-up, and too much body fat.

"Excuse me," she said.

"May I help you," replied Jim.

"Yes, I'm looking for a smart curio, do you have any?"

"Yes, we have several, please follow me."

What possible force could overtake the pillar of the Bible?

Not only supplant it but also reap revenge upon the very

foundation that supported it in the first place? Jim

pondered this and other philosophical questions searching

for answers.

"I like this one, how much?"

"Just today, it's $1200."

Jim's ideal on how American people should conduct their

lives was based on Jeffersonian, Eisenhowardian, and

Mosesbethan principles with a sprinkle of Chairman Mao

thrown in to keep everyone honest.

"Is this your best price?" she kind of demanded.

"You do realize it's already been reduced." Jim reminded

her. "I'd have to make a phone call. How much are you

proposing?"

Jim had by now been in many of their homes, seen where

they lived, seen the devastation, the wasteland, writ large,

the writing on the wall. And guess what, it wasn't a pretty

picture. While part of him envied their great material

wealth mostly he was repelled by it. Recoiled in Horror

actually: this can't be the end result of this republic called

America?' And Jim reasoned to himself that since we're

living in a post christian society should not the obvious

replacement take the stage, make a bow, and give a long

speech: "Please ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce

to you, for lack of a better description, the antichrist,

please put your hands together and let's give a big

welcome to Sir Charles Darwin...."

"Do you have a changing room?" she inquired.

"But Ma'am, we're a furniture store!"

She unzipped his trosers and he leaned against the

bathroom wall for support. Jim stared at the photo of

Reagan hanging on the wall and then closed his eyes

trying to concentrate. Jim felt this wasn't right but obliged

her anyway, given, as he reasoned to himself: "I am a

company man."

Clay Surfing